Mockingjay Alternate Ending
by toreadistofly
Summary: Do you think Mockingjay should have had a happy ending? Here's how I think it should have ended!
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone! I don't know about anyone else, but I was not at all happy with the ending of Mockingjay. I feel this series deserves a happy ending, so I've decided to write one. I have already written the epilogue, too, so I know who will end up with whom, and I'm really happy with it. I hope you like this, and feel free to message me with ideas and reviews. Sorry I haven't written much, my next chapter should be longer. This is starting on page 348, at the beginning of chapter 25, right after the parachutes go off. Enjoy!**

**And ****that****'****s ****when ****the ****rest ****of ****the ****parachutes ****go ****off.**

My mind is numb. Prim. My beautiful, perfect Prim. Uncomprehending, I begin to run toward her, because Prim could not have been taken away. The sweet girl whom everyone loves, the hero, the healer. As I stare at the unyielding fire, my thoughts become clear, and I know that she could not have survived. I fall to the ground, hating Snow. Hating the world. My eyes close, and I have no intention of opening them again.

The next thing I know, I am lying in a hospital bed. I have about two blissful seconds before I remember yesterday's events. I become aware of the dull pain that is present all over my body. I look at my hands, and recognize the scars. How is it that I didn't even notice that I was on fire yesterday? The intense pain that must have been coursing through my body somehow didn't register to my head. The thought hits me once again, harder than before, that I will never see Prim again. It is a feeling that could easily mask the pain of being burnt. I will never see Prim again. My eyes close.

Someone is shaking me. I ignore them. "Stop", I want to say, but I don't have the energy or the willpower to speak. Unless you're Prim, go away. And of course you're not Prim, Prim's dead. Go away. I realize that this is all going on in my head, and as far as the shaker knows, I am still sleeping. After a moment of contemplation and dread, I open my eyes, aware of the futility of this action, knowing that nothing I see for the rest of my life will make me happy. My eyes take a moment to focus, and even then I don't believe what I am seeing. Smiling down at me as well as she can is a face that would be almost unrecognizable to anyone but me. A face so scarred and torn up that it is a wonder how it can still be so beautiful. My Prim.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the positive feedback, because of that, I'm going to try to get a new chapter on every day! As you can tell, the story is going on a completely different, much less depressing path than the original Mockingjay. I hope you like it!**

"Prim!" I cry, as I try to jump out of bed. That's when I realize how injured I really am, and I wonder how Prim, who was right there when the parachutes went off, is able to stand. Then I see that she isn't standing, she is in a wheelchair, and there's someone with her, someone that I didn't notice was there until now. It's Gale. I have a million questions for him, but right now all I care about is my sister.

"How long have you been awake?" I ask her, longing to hear her voice.

"Just a few minutes, actually. I came to see you right away. Katniss, you almost died." She has tears in her eyes. It takes me a moment to process what she just said, because wasn't it her who almost died? Or am I going crazy? As I stare at her in wonder, I begin to understand. Prim's life is about other peoples' health and wellbeing, not her own. Her near-death experience was merely a small obstacle, and I have no doubt that she plans on continuing as a healer as soon as possible. Prim continues, obviously assuming that the subject is too stressful for me.

"Gale was with me when I woke up… He told me everything that we missed. Katniss, it's over. The war is over."

Over. No more fighting, no more dying.

"The Capitol fell the day the parachutes went off. It's led by President Coin now. President Snow is only alive because of the promise Coin made you; as soon as you're ready, he's dead."

"And Peeta?" I ask, bracing myself.

"No one's sure yet. He got burned pretty badly, but that's not the problem. The doctors found quite a bit of tracker jacker venom in his system. It turns out that the reason hijacking works as well as it does is that if it is injected with a needle instead of coming directly from a tracker jacker, it can stay permanently in the victim's bloodstream. The doctors have never seen this before, because most hijacking victims are not treated for it, since it was believed to be all mental. They have found a way to get it out, but it could be dangerous. They're working on him right now, actually."

I notice that Gale is giving me a calculating look. I try not to show the excitement on my face, but it's hard. If all goes well, Peeta will be free of the hijacking. He will no longer see me as a possible mutt, or secretly fear deep down, for the rest of his life, that I want to kill him. My Peeta will be back. And if it doesn't go well… I decide not to think of that.

I turn my attention to Gale.

"Hi, Gale," I say tentatively. I can't help but remember that the last time I communicated with him, he was telling me to shoot him.

"Hi, Catnip," he says with a smile. "Thanks for not shooting me. Turns out I could take them after all."

"It was my pleasure," I say, relieved. "So, why are you here? Shouldn't you be helping out somewhere, with cleanup?"

"Actually, I'm leaving this afternoon. Disctrict Two. I just… had to see you before I left. I'll be back for the execution though. You'll be out of here in about a week, Prim as well."

"Thank God. I hate it in here, to be honest," I say, and it's true. I can't wait to get out of this white, sterile room.

"I should be going. See you, Catnip."

"Bye Gale." I don't know what else to say, so I settle for a measly "Have fun."

"I have to go too, the doctors don't know I'm gone. I love you, Katniss," says Prim.

I realize that I'm gripping tightly on to Prim's equally scarred hand. I don't want to let go. I can't bear the thought of Prim leaving me now.

"Please, stay with me. They'll understand. Please."

Prim looks at me, and for a moment I feel like the younger sister, pleading for Prim to stay, to comfort me.

"Okay Katniss, I'll stay with you," she says, and I can tell that she is relieved. She wanted me to say that.

"I love you, Prim," I say, as I grip her hand tighter.


	3. Chapter 3

The next week goes by too slowly. Mostly I sleep, because I didn't do much of that while on the run. Periodically, I wake up and find the doctors hard at work on my body, fixing me, but I find myself fast asleep seconds later with new drugs coursing through my veins.

Finally, eight days after the visit from Gale, I wake up to find no doctors hovering over me, no one sitting in the chair beside my bed, waiting to feed me. Instead, I see a plate of food that has probably been there for hours, but it looks strikingly appetizing. I am completely alone. I feel strong, and much more intact than even before I was on fire. My eyes scan my body, beginning at my hands, which are now patched up with fresh, flawless skin. I notice the odd scar on my leg, my belly, my finger. I realize that some of the skin I see is mine, but most of it is not. I wish they had consulted me before all of this repairing; I don't mind scars at all, in fact. They show what I've been through. I wonder what they did with Prim, if they covered her in new skin like me.

I sit up and realize that, despite the looks of it, my skin is quite tender. Even the soft sheets feel like a rough, heavy blanket. I suspect they want to keep me here for longer than was planned, but I will do anything to get out of here and spend some time with Prim. Not to mention Snow's execution. My hands are itching for my bow, my heart yearning for the demise of Snow. I can't wait to see the look on his face when I am in charge of his life. It will be priceless.

Against my wishes, I spend a few more days in the hospital as my skin heals. I am not told anything about Prim or Peeta, but my mother arrives with good news about District 12. Apparently, there was another group of survivors, who had found their way to Victor's Village before being harmed too badly. Unfortunately, they lost a fair amount of people on the trip they took, by foot, to the Capitol. In the surviving group were Madge and her family, as well as many lucky others. They arrived with the intent to start a revolution against the Capitol, oblivious to the past few weeks' events. Many of the men were sent immediately to other districts to help clean up, and the rest are enjoying the luxury of the Capitol. According to my mother, Madge has come to visit me a few times, though I've been sound asleep or too high on morphling every time.

After my mother's visit, Haymitch comes in to my room, surprisingly sober, with clean clothes for me and a look of business on his face.

"Hello, sweetheart, how are you doing?" he says warmly, but he doesn't give me time to answer. He holds out the clothes for me to take. "Put these on, and come with me. We have a long day ahead of us."

"What do you mean?" I ask, confused. I haven't had a "long day" in what seems like forever, and I have become accustomed to sleeping all day and night.

"The execution, of course! Your prep team is waiting for you, and they're getting quite impatient, to say the least. Hurry, please."

I look at him pointedly, but he doesn't seem to get the hint that I would like some privacy. I awkwardly turn around and change into the clean clothes, and we're off. I've never much liked being primped, so I decide to do what I've done ever other time my prep team has attempted to polish me; zone out and let them do their work.

When I arrive in the prepping room, I am greeted by very excited and tearful Octavia and Venia. Flavius stands behind them, with a small smile on his lips. But there's someone else, standing off to the side with his back turned. I instantly recognize the close-cropped dark brown hair, and when he turns around, his gold eyeliner brings out the gold flecks in his green eyes stunningly.

Cinna.


	4. Chapter 4

I did not grow up believing in miracles. After Prim showed up at my bedside, I decided I would never wish for another miracle in my life. And now this. Could this really be Cinna?

"I… this can't… what is this?" I ask, not really understanding my words. Cinna looks surprised, and a little worried. I realise that he thinks I must be crazy.

"Sorry, but I… don't understand." I had been sure he was dead. A smile starts to form on his face. My eyes tear up, and I lose control. I run to Cinna, and hug him with all of my strength, never intending to let go. His arms wrap around me with equal force as mine.

"Nice to see you love," he says, and his voice is hoarse. The doctors may have fixed him up with new skin, but there are parts of the body that can only be repaired naturally. "Now let's get you fixed up. I thought there would be more work to do, considering you almost got boiled alive, but the doctors seem to have done a good job."

I hear Cinna talking, but I don't register what he's saying. My heart is filled with bliss, my mind filled with disbelief.

Cinna and the others laugh.

"You've never been so happy to see me," Octavia says, feigning pain.

I release my arms from Cinna, but only to look at his face.

"Alright team, do your worst," I say, with newfound excitement. Up until now, there had been a seemingly permanent wall between me and any kind of positive feelings. I understand now that Cinna's death was the wall. I am now free to feel anything I want.

I sit in a chair for two hours while my team prepares me for the execution, and then Cinna comes out with a new and improved (if that's even possible) version of my fire suit. After putting it on, I am ready.

I walk through many halls, and I have lost my sense of direction long before I enter the stadium.

My mouth falls open. I have never seen this many people in my life, even before the first games. It seems that every living person in the Capitol has come to see me do the deed, as well as whoever could make it from the districts. I spot Gale, waiting for me with my bow and arrow. My heart is surprisingly calm, my hands surprisingly steady. I'm ready.

"Good luck, Catnip," says Gale, but my mind is concentrating solely on Snow's face. I feel slightly disappointed. I see no fear, no anguish, and no anger. Unbelievably, he still has a look of condescension on his face, but I don't care. I don't want to see anything on his face.

As I lift my bow, my only thought is, _I want him dead._

I pull back. I'm ready to release. Snow face hasn't changed, and I could kill him any second I want to.

_I want him dead. I want him dead. But I don't want to be the one to do it._

I lower my bow. I'm not a killer, and I don't want to be. I suddenly figure out why his look is still condescending. He is still controlling me. He knew this would happen eventually if he didn't get to me first, and he wants me to know that he has made me a killer.

I take a step back, and look at the crowd. _I'm sorry, _I whisper.

I look at Snow, and watch the sparks run through his chair, and his eyes go blank. It's over. He's over.


End file.
